Hidden Hatred
by thebmule
Summary: Kurama has a hidden hatred. Yomi doscovers this and takes advantage of it.


A/N - this is the ff-dot-net version posted under a mule account so that my actual account will not be banned. Enjoy and please review. If you question my identity, that's fine, as I have this posted under a different username on another site. Simply e-mail that author and reference this story. She is me, so there will be no problems. -mhmuletini

This evolved through a series of livejournal comments debate the potential for Kurama to be a cutter. Another story was born from the same, and it is entitled "Daddy" by Blueutopiah. I would post a link, but ff-dot-net seems to be allergic to links. Check it out, anyway; it is posted in this archive.

--

Yomi entered. "Kurama, is that blood I smell?"

Kurama replied, "Yes, Yomi," in a subdued tone, the razor in his hand still glistening red.

"Where are you injured? Describe it to me," Yomi said, approaching slowly, recognizing a cornered animal when he sensed one and not wanting to push his former partner too far.

"It's none of your concern," Kurama replied, turning back to the task, quite literally, at hand.

"It is," Yomi pressed, but the fox spirit was sick of his affairs being public to others. He stood, his right hand striking quickly, the razor aiming for Yomi's already sightless eyes. Before it could connect, however, the goat demon grabbed Kurama's uninjured wrist and turned his weaker, human body around to face away. Quickly Yomi used his free hand to secure Kurama's left wrist as well, standing behind the kitsune and holding the smaller form's arms crossed before them both. Only then did Yomi feel the liquid warmth under his touch; only then did he see with his heart what his dark eyes could not discern.

"What has happened to you, Kurama?" he whispered, his breath moving the red hair by the human's ear. Kurama did not respond, his head drooping in shame. No one had ever discovered his habit before. Now he appeared weak before the one creature he wished to never see his frail, human side.

Yomi shifted his hands to pull Kurama into a gentle, but firm embrace from behind. He wanted to comfort his old friend, to ease the suffering he knew the demon must endure trapped in the ningen form. As he began to rock slightly from side to side, the smell of the blood intoxicated him, driving the more rational thoughts from his mind. Softly he let his lips wander down the side of the thin neck before him.

Kurama bit his lower lip and closed his eyes. Yomi may have detected the warm, coppery scent of his blood, but the taller demon would never know the bitter, saline aroma of his tears. Giving in to the dark desires within himself, Kurama tilted his head to the side, giving his companion better access and signaling his approval of Yomi's intentions. It was, after all, only a human body, barely worth the effort of cutting. Why should he preserve it for one who could never love him in return?

--

Kurama kept his eyes tightly closed as the soft lips made their way down his neck and to his shoulder. In his past life he had known Yomi's touch, and known it well. This body, this husk, however, had never experienced this feeling before. Though he had learned the gentle love in a mother's healing touch, his human form was going to learn a new type of touch this night.

Yomi slowed his pace. He had to remind himself this was not the fierce youko that had bedded him many years before. The same spirit still burned, if less brightly, in this body, but it was soft, frail, and fragile. As the former fox thief was now, the demon could easily crush him or tear him in half with very little effort. It would be a different story if Kurama chose to fight back, but he offered no resistance as Yomi's lips suckled softly on his shoulder.

Releasing Kurama's wrists, Yomi shifted his hands under Kurama's waistband to the slender hips. Gentle caresses turned hard, forceful enough to bruise the tender flesh under the dark crimson handprint left behind. Massaging and kneading, the hands worked their way forward, arousing the body underneath them.

Kurama kept his arms crossed before him. His body betrayed his lust, but there was no love. He had sealed it away deep within his heart. When it threatened to escape its confines, he would let it leak out, one red drop at a time, from his wrist. As Yomi's hands made their way up his torso, teasing and titillating his skin under his loose clothing, that red, that evidence of his love, coated his body. Spreading further and thinner, it became a barely visible pink sheen, a sorry ghost of an emotion he had once learned to revere.

When Yomi reached his shoulders and turned him, Kurama did not resist. Yomi could not see if his eyes were open or closed, so he clenched them tightly, blocking out the light, literally and figuratively, from his being. Slowly he allowed his hands to creep up the broad chest to lie on the still-clad strong shoulders. Leaning forward, he rested his head against Yomi. Unwilling to care, he surrendered to the goat's touch.

Yomi kept his hands on Kurama's body, under the clothing, touching and mapping the flesh it found there. Moving slowly he steered the fox backwards. Kurama took a moment to marvel at Yomi's sense of direction. He could not see the bed, and yet he took them both to it without hesitation. When the soft mattress hit the back of Kurama's knees, the fox fell backwards. Yomi followed, his larger body covering Kurama's smaller one and his weight pinning Kurama.

Wordlessly, Yomi began to strip the red head below him. Kurama allowed it with no resistance. He had given in to the demon when he allowed the light kisses on his neck; there was no changing his mind now. When the shirt was gone, Yomi pulled Kurama's pants down quickly, yanking roughly when they became entangled at his knees.

For a brief second the material shifted against Kurama's soft skin, leaving a shining brush burn behind his knees. In that moment the kitsune felt a rush of fear and hatred. Fear of what his body was about to experience and hatred towards his weak and unclean self. He was a bit surprised that Yomi would stoop so low as to take him at all. But recalling how many times he had mounted the goat, it was only appropriate for the demon lord to now exhibit his dominance in the same manner. Yomi's voice called Kurama back tot he present.

"My shirt," the deep voice said. The demand was clear. Almost mechanically Kurama reached up and removed the garment for the form above him. His hands did not shake and he did not fumble. After the momentary flash off ear, Kurama had become numb, cold, unaffected by his current situation. A few minutes after Yomi's shirt landed on the floor, his pants joined it.

Yomi leaned forward, pressing down, and felt the luxurious sensation of Kurama's naked body pinned beneath his own bared skin. Shifting, he felt the friction as they slid against each other. Pressing down harder, he captured Kurama's lips with his own for the first time, bruising them and forcing them open, leaving no doubt as to who was dominant.

Kurama felt the body above his shift. He wondered what Yomi would have him do first, but his thoughts were distracted by the feel of a firm prod near his entrance. Apparently the goat was not patient tonight. 'Of course not,' Kurama reflected. 'Who would take their sweet time with a rag body like this?' Opening his legs, he waited for Yomi to continue. His wait was not long.

Yomi pushed forward harder until he heard a sharp gasp below him. Pausing, he could hear Kurama's teeth grinding. "That's right; you're human now. Humans need more lubrication than demons," Yomi said softly. Although Yomi intended his statement to be an acknowledgement of Kurama's needs, Kurama heard only derision. His poor, weak body needed special treatment so he wouldn't break. As Yomi moved to stand, Kurama clutched him. His body may be weak, but he would be damned if he would allow that to mar his reputation.

With a curious expression, Yomi stopped. He could not see the nervous, tentative look in Kurama's eyes, but the smell of the kitsune's sweat had changed. It was bitter, acrid. It was the smell of fear. The arms wrapped around him belied that scent, trying to cling to courage and resolve.

Kurama grasped tighter, opening the cut on his wrist once more. As the smell of the blood mingled with his sweat and the anxious aroma, Yomi grinned. If his partner, no, his prey wanted it rough, then who was he to argue?

Turning back to the fox, Yomi leaned in to Kurama's head, his breath teasing the human's ear. "Okay, Youko. We'll do it your way," he whispered, feeling the small body beneath him tighten instantly. Youko Kurama was known as a rough lover and rarely took the time to prepare his partner's body. As Kurama was still tight he felt Yomi shift backwards slightly and then lunge forward.

Kurama bit his lip hard enough to draw blood as Yomi rammed into his body, driving him two feet up the mattress. His virgin body rejected the intrusion, tensing and resisting the goat. As a result, Yomi had not fully sheathed himself in Kurama's body. With barely enough time for a ragged gasp, Kurama felt Yomi shift and lunge again. The human cried out as he felt himself stretching, trying to accommodate Yomi's impressive size. Again, the sheets chafed under his back as he was thrust farther up the bed and Yomi was thwarted once more.

The goat was getting frustrated. For a puny, human body, this one was putting up one hell of a good fight against being entered. Reaching under Kurama's arms, he turned his hands palms up and hooked them over the kitsune's shoulders. Kurama felt this grip and was about to ask Yomi to wait when the larger man rammed forward once more, fully encasing himself in Kurama's body. His soft request turned into a shrill scream as his body resisted being ripped in half.

Once sheathed, Yomi pressed down again immediately, crushing the air from Kurama's lungs and silencing his scream. The demon felt the smaller form wriggle and writhe, trying desperately to escape his weight and draw a breath. After a long moment, he allowed some space between them, only to hear another scream torn from the throat of his prey. With a wicked smile, Yomi began to move, giving Kurama no time to adjust.

Kurama felt as if he were being penetrated with hot sandpaper. The friction of their joining sent hot spikes of pain up his back and down his legs. His hands were clawing at something, but he did not know what. His legs kicked, but he did not know if they connected with anything. All he could feel was his former partner moving in him, shaving away layer after layer of skin and rending the flesh of his abused entrance. Sure enough, within minutes a warm, gooey feeling lubricated their movements somewhat. But even this sensation turned into more pain as the liquid began to clot and clump, gluing them together and making each movement even more agony.

Yomi continued to rock into and out of his prey. The rhythm he set was fast enough to bring a quick release but slow enough to enjoy every scream, moan, and whimper he drew from the ex-thief's lips. His instinct had taken over and he needed the dominance, the blood, and the release. Rocking a bit faster, he knew his end was close. One hand dropped between them to roughly stroke the fox.

While some may consider giving your prey pleasure a sign of mercy, affection, or weakness, in the demon world the opposite held true. To cause someone to climax while being brutalized was a sign of control. Yomi clenched his hand tighter, tightly enough for Kurama to cry out once more and to bruise the fox's most sensitive skin. With a sinister grin, Yomi looped his free hand back around Kurama's shoulders and drove as deeply as possible into the battered body.

Kurama felt his climax welling up within him, threatening to overtake him. He tried for a brief moment to resist it, to hold out and outlast Yomi. But his human body was unable and in a solid, uncompromising wave it crashed upon him, causing him to clench his muscles and drive his heels into the mattress below as a scream of new and previously unreached heights ripped its way from his throat. He did not feel his seed spill over his stomach and splash onto his chest. His world had gone black and bright white stars exploded in his vision. He knew he was going to pass out.

Yomi felt Kurama's energy waning after his climax and knew the fox was close to unconsciousness. Quickly he pressed harder, further, until he released himself deep within the body below him. Collapsing, he allowed his weight to land on the kitsune once more, but Kurama did not struggle this time. He didn't care anymore.

Within seconds Yomi arose and removed himself from Kurama. The ragged red head did not stir. His breathing showed him to still be awake, but barely. Without a word, Yomi picked up Kurama's left hand, exposing the wrist he had been cutting when the goat entered. Slowly the demon drew his tongue across the small, red line, savoring the taste of the blood, the taste of his victory. Wordlessly he threw on his clothing and left.

Kurama lay still for a few minutes. His raw throat begged for water, but he dared not stand yet. He knew when he finally did arise he would most likely faint. Deciding it was not worth the bother, he simply rolled onto his side and began to draw his knees up to his chest. Pain stopped him halfway, however, so he settled for simply cradling his slit wrist in his right hand. His eyes fluttered a few times and within moment he was asleep in the blood-drenched sheets, small trickles of red still oozing from his wrist and his rear. Damn his worthless human body.

Unbeknownst to any inside the fortress, a small figure in the trees looked in through the window. Crimson eyes watched with concern as the figure asleep on the bed drew ragged breath after ragged breath. Quietly a deep voice pondered, "Why do you hate yourself, Fox? How can you hate a form so beautiful? How can you deny yourself the love I wish I could show you?"

Those red eyes kept watch all night, making sure those ragged breaths never stopped.


End file.
